


Trust Me

by deathishauntedbyhumans



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Consensual Kissing, Deadpool Thought Boxes, First Kiss, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Identity Reveal, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Consensual Drug Use, POV Multiple, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 19:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20493890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathishauntedbyhumans/pseuds/deathishauntedbyhumans
Summary: Peter gets drugged by some baddies and turns to Wade to keep him safe. Wade has an internal crisis, as per the norm.





	Trust Me

**Author's Note:**

> I woke up this morning with the dregs of a Spideypool dream in my head and spun this garbage out as a result.
> 
> _Yellow_  
**White**

A whine tore painfully from Spider-Man’s throat, and Wade clenched his fists further at his sides. 

The lithe, red-and-blue-suited hero was trembling, curled up on Wade’s sofa with one arm thrown over his eyes. He’d been there for a little over an hour, in the same position. 

When Wade tore his gaze back up to him, he whimpered again and curled up impossibly tighter. 

“Spidey, you gotta relax,” he murmured, but it was like Spidey couldn’t hear him. 

Whatever drugs they’d given him were sure working their fucked up magic, Wade reflected, not for the first time, since Spidey had stumbled in through his window an hour ago and promptly collapsed on his couch. The only explanation Spidey had been able to give him was that he’d been in the process of infiltrating some kind of high-profit drug cartel when he’d been shot with some kind of syringe. 

And _ yes, _Wade was extremely concerned about the little spider, but hot fucking damn if it didn’t melt his frozen heart to think that Spidey had decided to come to him for help. 

_ Spidey trusts us! _

**He shouldn’t. **

When he’d asked what Spidey wanted him to do, the only response Wade had been given had been a thousand-yard stare from beneath the lenses of his mask and then a muffled, “Make sure I don’t die?” Which, yeah, okay. That was fair. 

Wade could do that. 

“Baby boy, breathe,” Wade murmured, finally pushing himself out of his shitty, torn armchair across from the sofa and approaching Spidey slowly. 

_ If he doesn’t breathe, he’ll die! _

Wade made a face, barely resisting the urge to swat Yellow away. He had more important things to deal with than his boxes. 

**Nothing’s more important than us. **

Spidey’s lenses contracted and expanded, which meant that Spidey was blinking slowly at him. Wade sat down on the sofa beside him. 

“_Wade,” _Spidey croaked out, and it broke his heart to hear his favourite hero so fucked like this. Wade didn’t get a chance to reply, though, before Spidey threw himself upon him, his chest heaving with every laboured breath he pulled in. 

_ Oh, shit! _

**You’ve got him right where you want him. **

“Shut _ up, _White,” Wade muttered aloud. Spidey didn’t show any signs that he’d heard, but he didn’t usually care when Wade talked to the Boxes, so that in itself didn’t add to Wade’s concern. “Spidey, sweetheart, baby boy, I’m gonna roll your mask up so you’re not breathing through spandex, okay?” He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t done it sooner, but— No, okay, that was a lie. He’d been terrified to touch Spidey for the past hour, given his worsening state, and rolling up his mask at all while he was out of it felt like an invasion of privacy that made Wade sick to consider. 

Spidey’s life was more important than his dignity right now, though, so that was that. 

Wade couldn’t tell if Spidey nodded or not, given the way he was still shaking, but he took the lack of response as compliance and reached for the edge of Spidey’s mask. Careful fingers slid beneath it and began rolling the spandex upwards, revealing a pale chin, a pair of chapped lips that Wade thought about kissing —and other nasty, nasty things that he was _ locking away deep in his head, _thank you very much, (bad Deadpool!)— far too much, and a familiar cute nose that was currently flaring wildly with Spidey’s rapid attempts at sucking in air. 

“Tha-Thank y— Thank you,” Spidey said through chattering teeth, the words caught on his tongue before finally dripping out like oil. Wade shushed him gently (good Deadpool!) and slid an arm around Spidey’s bony shoulders. Spidey immediately wormed his way further into the embrace. 

_ Kiss him! _

**Yeah, kiss him. Take advantage of him and scare him away for good. That’s what you deserve. **

Wade ignored both of his Boxes in favour of carefully easing Spidey the rest of the way off of the sofa and onto his lap. Spidey went willingly, his body pliant when his muscles weren’t spasming. 

“I’ve got you, baby boy,” he murmured. Spidey tucked his face against Wade’s neck, and Wade tried not to cringe at the thought of Spidey’s perfect lips getting anywhere near his own rough, fucked-up skin. Spidey’s harsh breathing was hot against the scarring.

With Wade this close, it was much easier to monitor his physical well-being. He felt like a complete idiot for not trying something sooner. 

_ Trying something, eh? ;) _

And even if Spidey would regret letting Wade get this close to him when he was back in his right mind, it had to mean something that Spidey had come bursting in through _ his _window after he’d gotten attacked. 

Spidey _ trusted _him, against all fucking odds. 

**How stupid of him. **

Wade tensed slightly. It wasn’t stupid. Wade was doing everything he could to help Spidey in his drugged-up state. He wasn’t hurting him, he wasn’t taking advantage of him. He was helping him! He was protecting him! 

“Shut up, White,” Spidey slurred in a mumble against Wade’s neck. 

Wade blinked in surprise. “What was that, Webs?”

Spidey shook his head a little, inadvertently nuzzling against Wade’s neck. “Your Boxes are loud,” he said, which… really wasn’t an explanation. As far as Wade knew, he was the only one who’d ever been able to hear them before. 

_ It’s probably the drugs. _

**It’s definitely the drugs. **

Spidey didn’t respond to them again, so Wade wrote it off as a fluke. He smoothed one hand down Spidey’s back, noting the sweat he could feel through the spandex in the back of his mind. 

“You should try and sleep it off, baby boy,” Wade suggested softly. Spidey hummed in what Wade assumed was agreement. 

Within minutes, Spidey’s breathing had evened out some. The rise and fall of his chest was still more erratic than it should have been, but he seemed much calmer than he’d been before Wade had finally intervened, so Wade was willing to count it as a plus. 

* * *

Peter woke up with a bad taste in his mouth and a headache that rivalled the very first night after he’d been bitten by the spider that started it all. He blinked awake slowly, the memory of the events of the previous night —the previous failed patrol— rolling over him further with each second of dawning consciousness. 

The sight of Wade’s messy apartment was a welcome one, when he managed to take it all in. 

Peter rubbed a hand over his face wearily. His fingertips came into contact with his half-rolled mask, and he fiddled absently with it for a moment as he took in his surroundings more thoroughly. Wade wasn’t anywhere to be seen, but there was a familiar voice humming lowly in the kitchenette just past where Peter could see, so he wasn’t too worried that he’d done something ridiculous and frightened Wade off. 

Not that he actually thought it _ possible _ to frighten Wade off, Peter thought to himself, a terrible fondness curling in his chest. Wade was… something else entirely. At first, he’d been obnoxious, too loud and brash and harsh for his own good, but as Peter had gotten to know him, he’d come to realise that the man beneath the mask was a lot more similar to Peter himself than either of them had realised originally.

It was why he’d gone to him the night before, when he’d been so messed up he’d hardly been able to see straight. Wade was a weird mix of danger and safety, hard and soft, dark and light. 

He felt more like _ home _ than Peter’s shitty studio apartment ever had, that was for damn sure.

A decision settled itself over Peter easily, and it felt like the first breath he’d taken since he’d woken up. He slid his mask the rest of the way off of his face and left it lying on the sofa beside where he’d been lying, sitting up slowly. 

He winced. His head really did feel like it was splitting open. 

“Wade?” he called quietly, and the humming in the other room abruptly stopped. 

“Spidey? You up?”

Peter rubbed at his temples, ducking his head so that he could lean it on his hands. “Yeah.”

Even from a room over, Peter could _ feel _the palpable relief in Wade’s voice when he answered again. “Good! I’m making pancakes!”

Had Peter mentioned that Wade felt like home? Because _ shit, _he felt like home. An ache, fond and warm and nothing to do with his recent drugging, settled delightedly in his chest, and Peter took a breath to steady himself before standing up. “Sounds good!” he called back. 

When he entered the kitchen, Wade had his back to the doorway and was, true to his word, standing at the stove making pancakes. He was wearing a white shirt and black sweats, both of which Peter vaguely remembered him wearing the night before, and from Peter’s vantage point, seemed to have an apron tied around his waist. 

His shoulders were stiff, with his head cocked minutely to the side like he was listening to something. 

“He’s fine,” Peter heard Wade mutter. “Stop it.”

Peter leaned against the doorframe. “Be nice to him, White.”

Wade startled, the spatula in his hand clattering to the floor. He turned around quickly, his eyes already wide, and then stopped stock-still at the sight of Peter in front of him, suit on and mask off. 

“Holy _ fuck,” _he breathed out. Peter smiled softly. 

“I didn’t mean to freak you out,” he apologised, chagrinned. “I just—“

“You’re not wearing your mask,” Wade interrupted, throwing a hand up in front of his eyes, hiding Peter’s face from his view. He sounded panicked. “Spidey, I think it fell off—“

Peter shook his head and stepped forward, gently taking Wade’s hand in his own and tugging it down. When he could see Wade’s expression again, it was one of mixed adoration and confusion. “I took it off,” he explained easily. “I didn’t want to wear it.”

“I— You—“ Wade looked shocked. “_ Me? _You trust—?”

“Of course,” Peter answered without hesitation, sure that his own eyes were shining. Despite the pounding in his temples, he didn’t think he’d ever felt better. “I came here last night, didn’t I?”

Wade grabbed onto Peter’s hand, held it like a drowning man holds his lifeline. “Holy _ shit,” _he repeated. 

Peter smiled at him. “I think your pancakes are burning,” he said seriously. 

“Shit!” Wade pulled his hand away and bent down to retrieve his spatula. He nearly headbutted Peter in the process, who stepped back quickly to avoid him and laughed fondly, leaning against the opposite counter as Wade made quick work of flipping the pancakes in the pan. He turned back when they’d been taken care of, his gaze unabashedly roaming along Peter’s face, taking him in. 

Peter did nothing to stop him. “My real name is Peter, by the way,” he said. He let his smile grow wider. “Peter Parker, if you’re nasty.”

“Peter,” Wade said in wonder. “Pete. Petey-Pie. Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. Petey Pete. You’re… Did you know that you’re unfairly attractive?” He set the spatula down on the side of the stove, squinting the way he did when he was being berated by his Boxes. “You’re not still drugged, are you?”

“God, no,” Peter replied, pulling a face. “That was a nightmare, though. Thank you for letting me crash here… Kinda literally. Sorry for nearly breaking your window.”

“Wouldn’t have been the first time,” Wade replied distractedly. Peter chuckled, and then shook his head. 

“Tell them to stop questioning this,” he said softly, and Wade’s eyes went wide again. 

“What?”

“I know they’re giving you shit,” Peter said, gesturing vaguely to the empty air beside Wade’s head. 

Wade looked the absolute picture of shock, _ again. _ “Can you… Can you hear them?” he asked, and for a moment, Peter’s heart _ broke _ for the absolute trepidation in Wade’s voice. 

He shook his head. “No, no. I just… I know how you look when they’re talking to you,” he explained. “Especially when it’s White.”

One deep breath later, and the fear was completely vanished from Wade’s face. It was replaced with _ awe, _like he hadn’t expected Peter to pay close enough attention to him to notice anything like that. “Oh.”

Peter nodded again, then gestured to the pancakes. “You should take those off.”

Wade lunged for the spatula. “Fuck!”

Once the pancakes were plated, amidst Peter’s amused chuckling, Wade turned back to Peter and set the spatula down once more. Peter approached him, reaching around him to turn off the stove. He left his hand there behind Wade, leaning into his space. Wade might’ve had a couple inches of height on him, but Peter was sure of himself, which made them feel like they were on much more even ground. 

“I’d like to kiss you,” Peter said softly, grinning when Wade’s pupils visibly dilated at the announcement. “But my mouth tastes like awful morning breath.”

“Who cares?” Wade replied breathlessly. Without waiting for a response, he closed the distance between them, earning a pleased sigh from Peter as he immediately opened his mouth to him.

* * *

“I’m not _ glad _ that I was drugged!” Peter —Peter!! Spidey’s name was _ Peter!! _And Wade was allowed to know that!!!— laughed out, obviously trying and failing to look indignant. Wade laughed, too. 

“I mean, would this have happened otherwise?”

Peter, surprisingly, sobered a little at the question. “Absolutely,” he answered without hesitation. Wade’s eyebrows would have slid up his forehead if they hadn’t been non-existent. Even without them, Peter seemed to understand his confusion. 

_ He knows us so well. _

“This has been a long time coming, Wade,” Peter said, tucking away his last bite of pancake before setting his plate on top of Wade’s on the floor. He shifted on the sofa, until he was leaning comfortably against Wade’s side. “You can’t tell me you didn’t see it.”

**Well, you ** ** _are _ ** **an idiot, so…**

“Shut up, White,” both Wade and Peter said at the same time. Peter smirked, while Wade stared at Peter with unsuppressed adoration shining in his eyes. 

Peter slid one hand up to the back of Wade’s neck, curling his fingers against the mottled skin. “C’mere,” he murmured, and Wade willingly leaned into him as Peter tugged him down into another perfect kiss, pancake-morning-breath and all. 

**Author's Note:**

> In my fics pancakes are the only breakfast food I guess. 
> 
> Kudos/comments are love! Come scream at me on tumblr @deathishauntedbyhumans.


End file.
